Patron Saint

I'm just a lyricist, not a rap ar-teest
No flow like your girlfriend next week
She’s onto the next one, movement, far east
Morning sick girl tryna be fly like 6 Gs

What you cooking up? That ain’t immaculate
The closest thing to Jesus born again is the last rap I spit
What you looking up? You’re working half a wit
Mirriam Webster and the Britannica don’t know the half of it

Crack a book that’s that hard back chiropractic
I’ll reorganize your spines, dewey decimal practice
Do we hesitate? Madness. Your patron saint? Agnes
Call it rape, I slay beats without even asking

You gone soft, 50 cc mushroom cup
I’m popping off, You see me? golden mushroom supper
My gas pedal suffer cause I’m smashing that
And the records piece them back together after the fact

I know you been sleeping, so I appear in your dreams
And then I peer in your window to watch you scream while you sleep
Because I’m Jason to music, everyone adjacent is muted
I tend to make em go stupid like chemicals used to clean

I been rejected refuted cause they don’t get what I mean
It ain't my fault that you’re foolish you need a brain on your team
For those who watching me do this and pour your hate over me
I turn my pain into heat, and convert that rain into steam

And it’s all for the engine, gonna fly around the world in a week
That leaves me 73 days, to study my replays, in 73 different seats
With plenty of popcorn for eatin'. I’m ready to feed, it’s my season
Cause Winter was cold blood, and dinner was not good, I’m thinner than young Wiz Khalif

I could trade hats with gangstas for playback on laid back
As payback for the way that they say Brasco Nor, (NOIR)
But aye man, if A$AP is your fave rap don’t say that
You can take back my tape and just stay yo ass at home (BOI)